


That Went Well

by skarletfyre



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarletfyre/pseuds/skarletfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a birthday present for <a href="http://viperbooty.tumblr.com">viperbooty!!</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	That Went Well

 

Staring down the scope was much more tedious than most people imagined it to be. The narrowed field of view called for quick reflexes and a quicker trigger finger. You had to know where a long range target was, or where they were going to be, before scoping in. That was the smart thing to do.

Sniper wasn't being smart today.

“C'mon, where are you...”

His sight was zooming all across the battlefield, peering in windows and between buildings, trying to catch sight of his quarry. The tell-tale fluttering of the white coat had eluded him for most of the day, which meant things were not going according to plan.

The good doctor was having a bit of Spy trouble. Sniper didn't know what the enemy spook's problem was or why he seemed so fixated on the Medic, but he didn't like it. Medic had it hard enough on the battlefield, sticking out like a sore thumb in that bright coat of his, attracting every stray bullet, rocket, or bomb that the opposite team had to offer. The last thing he needed was some slimy French bastard slinking around behind him, making his day even more stressful than it needed to be.

Sniper had a mind to take care of that stress for him.

Now if only he could find the man.

Scowling, Sniper pulled away from from the scope and pressed his eye directly to the crack in the window, hoping to see the doctor dash across the ground below his perch. No such luck. It was like the Medic had simply disappeared.

If that Spy was camping him, sending him back to Respawn every time he set foot outside the door, thinking he'd have an easy time working up a killstreak, he had another thing coming.

Footsteps on the stairs behind him had him reaching for his kukri. He got his hand on the blade just as the door creaked open, and none other than the Medic himself poked his head into the room. Sniper stared.

“What the hell are you doing up here?” he asked, letting his weapon drop to his side but not loosening his grip on it.

“I was looking for you,” the doctor said, pushing the door open the rest of the way, raising his hands in a gesture of casual surrender. He was the real deal alright. Sniper frowned.

“Looking for me? Why've you been looking for me when I've spent the better part of the morning keeping an eye out for you?”

“You were looking for me as well?” Medic asked, raising his eyebrows. “Why?”

Sniper shifted awkwardly.

“Jus' trying to keep an eye on you,” he mumbled. Medic's eyebrows raised higher.

“On me? Shouldn't you be watching the _other_ team, Herr Sniper?”

Sniper could feel his face getting red.

“Well, yeah, I mean I _was_ lookin' out for them, but- you said their bloody backstabber was giving you trouble so I- I figured I'd just-” He closed his mouth, then opened it again. “Well what are _you_ doing here? What're you after me for?”

He noticed too late that there was some red in Medic's face as well, like the man was just as embarrassed as he was. Not that he could see how. It wasn't like he'd been caught out keeping tabs on a teammate for no good reason, having to admit he cared more than he had reason to about their safety-

“I saw that rocket nearly hit you earlier,” the doctor said, his voice a bit higher than usual. “You don't get much of my attention on the field, but I thought you might be in need of...”

He gestured unnecessarily to the Medigun in his hands.

_Oh._

Well maybe the Doc was caring for him after all.

“Yeah,” Sniper said, staring at the Medigun. “I mean, it wouldn't hurt, right?”

Medic pushed the lever forward.

There was a prolonged, awkward silence between them, broken only by the hum of the Medigun doing it's job. The rocket hadn't hit him, but it had hit close enough that he felt the blast of it. Might've taken some shrapnel, too, but nothing he needed to worry too much about. But a heal was a heal. Both of them avoided eye contact as the healing beam did its job. Sniper stared resolutely at the floor, his face flushing from the pleasant glow of the overheal, leaving his scalp and fingertips tingling.

He didn't even realise the beam had shut off until Medic cleared his throat.

“I really should be getting back,” he said stiffly, standing a bit straighter than usual. “The others will need my attention as well.”

“'Preciate it,” Sniper said automatically. They looked at each other for a moment longer, and then the doctor turned on his heel to leave the way he'd come.

_Now or never._

Sniper panicked.

“D'you wanna have dinner with me?” he yelled, immediately wincing at how loud his voice came out. Medic stopped abruptly and looked back at him with wide eyes. He swallowed. “N-not in the mess, I mean, like a- a proper dinner? With me? If you want?”

Medic's mouth was hanging open slightly. That was not encouraging. Sniper shuffled his feet.

“There's a place in town, or I could... I could cook?”

“You cook?” Medic asked, his voice sounding a little strained.

“I do alright. S'nothing fancy, but it's a meal. Uh, unless you _want_ fancy then I could- I could try to-”

He made a lame attempt at a hand gesture, not exactly sure what the gesture was even meant to indicate, but it felt like the right thing to do. Sniper could feel his resolve weakening. He could feel his natural instinct to flee rising within him, the temptation to leap out the window and run as far from this conversation – this _stupid_ conversation that'd _he'd_ started – and just run as fast and far as his long legs would carry him. Medic simply smiled.

“I think I would like to try your cooking, Herr Sniper,” he said, just as Sniper was plotting his escape in detail. The breath caught in his throat. He covered it by coughing.

“Yeah?”

“I have no other obligations this Thursday,” the doctor said, clearing his throat as well. “If that would work for you as well?”

“I- yeah, I'm free. Eight o'clock sound alright?”

Medic smiled again.

“Eight o'clock.”

Sniper stared in awe at the Medic's retreating back as the man turned to leave again, jogging quickly in the direction he'd come from. He couldn't believe what had just happened. For asking a teammate out by yelling at them in the middle of battle, everything had worked out surprisingly okay.

Well.

Looks like he had a date to plan.

 


End file.
